Christine: Unending Fury
by Diesel Fuel
Summary: Takes place 5 years after Christine, told by Dennis Guilder. More to come, PLEASE REVIEW.
1. Chapter 1

The following story takes place after Christine ends in the year 1983. It is told in the perspective of Dennis Guilder, like the original. I claim no possession or ownership to the characters in this story.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Christine: Unending Fury  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
After what happened in Darnell's garage that night so long ago, I never thought anything like that could possibly happen to me again, hell, it was impossible to begin with. Arnie's passed on now and Leigh's happily married far away. Sometimes I wish I never would've driven down that road after work with Arnie on that day, it might have prevented all of this. But even so, Arnie would have eventually spotted Christine, sitting there in front of that shabby house with the "For Sale" sign on her cracked windshield. What still plagues me is why LeBay exactly came back, and even after the following events, it still didn't seem clear to me. Someone must have a good reason to return from the grave, and LeBay had his, whatever it was.  
  
Chapter 1 - The Cube of Mangled Steel  
  
It had been a while since I tried to contact Inspector Mercer about the metal cube that once was Christine. I thought nothing of it and continued to work, live, etc. Then I heard about Sandy Galton, one of the punks who helped Buddy Repperton beat the living hell out of the Plymouth years ago. Apparently, a Sander Galton was killed in a hit and run at an L.A. drive-in where he worked late one night. Sandy was the only one of Repperton's gang who lived, possibly because he played a small hand in the crime, merely allowing Repperton and his cronies access to the parking lot where Arnie kept Christine. After reading about Galton's death, I worried a little more about Mercer. It had been about two weeks since I sent the letter and still no response. I managed to get the number for the PA State Police from a friend and questioned about Mercer. After being put on hold and transferred countless times, I finally got through to an operator who knew what the hell I was talking about. State Inspector Rick Mercer was killed when his car careened off the side of a road and into a river. I was shocked, I couldn't believe it. First Sandy dies in a hit-and-run and now Mercer's been in an accident. Was it starting all over again? If it was, how? I tried to think about what happened to Christine after the incident at the garage. Sometime after Arnie and his family's funeral, Mercer mentioned that he had the car crushed into a cube, and one of the workers who handled the wreck got a nasty cut on his arm from it, stitches as well. Through another series of phone calls, I located the salvage yard that the cube known as Christine was being held along with about a hundred other cars. I drove my '79 Mustang all the way from Columbus to the junkyard near McKeesport, Pennsylvania. During the drive, I thought about how Ford Changed the Mustang's appearance to make it more modern. Personally, I didn't care for the new design. The last real Mustang was the '73 model, and even then it was already ugly. Ugly but fast. With speed on my mind and an open road, I decided to open up the throttle and goosed the engine. 70.75.80.the speedometer needle kept going up. At 82mph the car started to feel sluggish so I slowed down to about 75 and hit the cruise control. During my little speed trip, I didn't notice that not one set of headlights went the other way, nor any taillights in front of me. I was the only car on the road. At that moment, a pair of dual headlights turned around the bend I just passed and was increasing rapidly. My worst fears had suddenly been realized: Christine was back. Then, the old cruiser changed lanes and passed me, apparently it wasn't the 1958 Plymouth Fury I thought it was, just a beat-up '59 Fairlane convertible occupied by some partying teenagers. By this time I had slowed down to about 60 and was coming in on my exit. I was too tired to go on so I spent the night at a shabby, third- rate motel. Lying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the say ahead of me. When I got to the junkyard, was I going to find the rusted heap of metal? What if it wasn't there, what would I do next? What happened to Mercer and Sandy? The answers to all of these lied just beyond my reach. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Disappearance By noon the next morning I had already showered and gotten dressed. I checked out of the motel and got back on the road. It wasn't long before I came to McKeesport and began the search for the junkyard. With the help of a man at a bus stop, I got directions and arrived at the junkyard around 12:45. When I got there, there wasn't a soul in sight. However, there was an office with traces that the scrapyard was still in use. I began to look around the hundreds of wrecked cars in the automobile graveyard, but most of these were recent models. The oldest car I saw was a '71 Cougar with the front smashed in. The junkyard gave off a weird vibe, like there were thousands of eyes watching my every move. Finally, I found where the owner kept the cubed cars. I was about to search for the Plymouth when I heard a yell from behind.  
  
"Hey, you! Stop right there!" screamed the owner. He was a middle-aged man wearing dirty overalls, an oil-covered t-shirt and a tattered trucker's hat.  
  
"Junkyard's closed, get out!"  
  
"Listen, I'm not here for parts, I need your help with something. About four years ago, a red '58 Fury was crushed into a box here, I need you to tell me where it is."  
  
"Do you think I remember every damn car that comes in here? The only cars I keep track of are the ones in one or two pieces, like the wrecks out in the field."  
  
"A State Inspector came here to have this car destroyed, it was a vintage 1958 Plymouth Fury in red. It was custom ordered, the only red one ever made. I really need your help."  
  
"Well, there was an old cube that was stolen the other day. It's been here for a while, and the color was red. It might've been the car you're lookin' for, but I'll be damned if I ever see it again."  
  
The junkman showed me the spot where he had it, it was a couple feet away from the rest of the cubes. In the dirt next to where the cube was, there was a set of tire tracks.  
  
"These tracks here are probably from the pickup or whatever they used to get away in, but I don't understand why anybody would want to steal a crushed car."  
  
The junkman continued to look around while I knelt down to study the treads and noticed something. There were two sets of tracks, one was from the junkman's tow-truck and the other from the mystery vehicle. The tow-truck's tires were much wider than the ones on the thieves' car, so it was easy to tell them apart. Then, something caught my eye. The mystery car only had tracks going out of the junkyard, but none coming in. It's like the pickup appeared out of thin air, or it was stolen from the junkyard as well as the cube. That possibility was deleted from my mind after I realized that there wasn't a single working car in this place except for the tow-truck. I asked the junkman to take a closer look at the tread-marks and try to see if he knew what kind of tires were on the car.  
  
"Well, by the looks of these, I'd say it was a classic, or someone that likes reproduction antique tires. They don't make treads like these anymore, these are off somethin' really old."  
  
I finally figured out what the hell happened, I was astonished. It happened again. Back when I tried to destroy Christine with Leigh, I discovered it was virtually impossible. As the car came along side of Petunia(the septic- tank cleaner I was driving), I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked at Christine's front end. Most of it was badly damaged and the hood was torn off, but as it sped by, a new hood was forming. It was appearing out of thin air, as well as the bumper and several pieces of glass from the headlights and windshield. Although I only caught a five-second glimpse at this sight, I will never forget it. So Christine reformed herself from the steel cube and escaped the junkyard, good as new. Sandy Galton and Mercer were murdered by Christine, piloted by the ghost of Roland D. Lebay. I didn't know where to go next, I didn't even want to know. I just wanted to go back to Ohio and get on with my life and try to forget this whole trip. But I couldn't forget it, it might be coming after me. I didn't know what the hell to do, if I stayed here I didn't have a trace of Christine's whereabouts. If I left, I could put myself in danger. I checked into another motel and dozed off to sleep, confused and alone. 


End file.
